Did Tawnee Stone Died

THE ROOM WITHOUT BOOKS LIBRARY

"No object deeper, more mysterious, more fruitful, more dazzling than a window ..." (Baudelaire).

"We can now see this room. It is not certainly

a quarter inhabited by some, has become a

place of pilgrimage. Naked has a crucifix presiding head of the bed, a nineteenth-century bed, antique wood, noble and severe.

At the foot of the bed on the floor, there is a large vase with flowers . But most striking is this picture now

look, is the window. The curtain, solemn and tralúcido, open-suspended in still air-sharpening a vivid glow, that it provided, as

something compact, vague and powerful.

is the light of day in the outdoor landscape, such

as he saw the poet, his eyes dull and, in this room where he died,

a taste of light in the silence of the court, lasting peace in the olive green.

Rosalía de Castro was already a be faltering when the July 15, 1885, asked to bring a bunch of thoughts, his most beloved flower. had the bouquet around the lips and felt a choking, with blurred vision his eldest daughter said: "Open the window. I want to see the sea."

Yes this window we see now, the window in which curtains announce the insurrection of the light, but this window can not see the sea. Did you see him, perhaps another look, a closer look inside, still as

and pure? Perhaps, inside, this view of the mind and spirit,

in moments of transition to death, as already said no more, was opened to live with another intensity, with a different duration. The size of memory, perhaps, and a memory still accurate and fresh, because we know when Rosalía

had seen the ocean one last time.

was on a farewell tour, a farewell to the salt and foam and the wave

the last day, about to leave the port, the husband - we know so much about this man and the other hand, so few! - Rosalie reminds built in the train car, the door opened, expecting at any moment the machine is launched.

The sun, the same sun that shines on the beach just left, the life-giving sun

in whispers and brackish bright side, his face lights up: a face weary

no beauty but with a firm and gentle pressure while

internal

recovered a shade under interim peace that clarity marina.

has already left the train will enter Rosalia, shadow among shadows, in the garden in the atrium where silent, sullen and serene, olives.

Did Rosalie sea? The room now empty, but the curtains late

daylight, the light echo of beach water loss. If you close your eyes, in the

rustle of leaves in the air crisp and clear you will feel is not very deep, like a whisper

wave inhabited this room? ".

Gimferrer Pere, DIETARY, 1984

ROSALIA DE CASTRO, POET UNIVERSAL

"is therefore folly of grieving spirit

or worm that I carry in my womb?

I just know it's a pleasure that hurts,

which is a pain that tormented flattered,

flame of life feeds,

but without which life is extinguished.

On the banks of Sar.

"Cando ningen ... you see, / sort are Nubra and sombrisos faces, / homes that roam shadows voltexantes cal / by meadows and fields. / A, upon a Comares / another's foot an Carvallo is inmóvil, / in order lifted hacia infinity. / Some cable source recrinado, / We who hears alert the murmur / water that falls, and plump eisala / tristísimos sospiro (...)".

new leaves

Rosalia: EL Dolores LIVING

He author's husband, Manuel Murguia, dijo the purpose of ella:

"In conoció sadness, at least at this extreme point at which the play becomes a melancholy thing dulce y sad time. It passed all bounds of sadness and anguish and oppression was painful or sharp pain. Only from that point of view we knew no sorrow. Often in these times of despair, that the sadness of things comes to our soul, told me: The sadness does not hurt like me. And in it all was extreme, lively, intense, and his heart sick, jumped into the chest with a violence and a noise that made her shiver. To escape this pain, tearing their own flesh, the anxiety of ending soon made heavier the yoke of life (...)

Rosalia us and everyone. Her tears of eternal rebellion against dropouts or the injustices of life, cry for everyone and despite all the tears infinite confused and not understand at times. Rosalia alone at all and facing nothing, eternally launches his eyes and forehead star to the time limits of this window of his desires and deep loneliness.

"Ai Levan two front unha estrela na! / Ai, two Levan bico not a song!". Enriquez gigs